Alone on the beach, I turn as a yellow
butterfly lifts from a piece of driftwood,
disappearing into the sand dunes.

How I yearn to feel the powdery flutter
of a butterfly wing; to slip through wild
mint with a fresh scent on my breath; to
soar across the sea without a shadow.

following me
around street corners –
the wind

Epistle

I fold the blank page, slide it into the envelope.
Hot sealing wax cools with my stamp of an
enso. I pass your house next to mine, slip it in
the box with your other mail. It is enough for me
to know it has reached you.

rambling roses —
blooming over the fence
between us

Hortensia Anderson is the author of numerous chapbooks as well as
a volume of poetry, TRUST (fly-by night press, 1995).
Currently, she serves as haibun editor for moonset, the newspaper.
She lives precariously on dialysis in nyc's east village with her bengal
leopard cat, Camellia and faithful companion, Pain.